Taste the Tears
by girlintheyankeeshat
Summary: A postep add on for Secrets and Lies 8.16: With every good memory was laced a bad one, for every smile, a tear. Luby.


Title: Taste the Tears

Summary: A post-ep add-on for Secrets and Lies (8.16): "With every good memory was laced a bad one; for every smile, a tear." Luby.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: The ER characters are not my property.

Dedications: To Sunny and Natasha for contsantly kicking my ass into gear over this piece! To all at the FanForum board and to everyone I've told about this for being so patient and to anyone who is reading: I thank you. x.

Snow fell hypnotically, like silent reams of icing sugar flicked from a spoon. It never fell in the same way, always in merciless, chaotic patterns, spinning from the night sky. Hard amber burned in the lamplights while the citizens lay in their warm, comfortable beds. Only the restless, the shift workers, the insomniacs dared to stir at such an hour.

Light bled into the shadows as Abby nudged the door open as quietly as possible, juggling her keys into the other hand, then closing it cautiously with both hands. Much to her surprise, there were signs of life in these small hours, the lamp in the corner emitting a serene glow, the television on low. She removed her hat and then ran her icy fingertips through her hair, suddenly aware of the comforting warmth inside the room. Shrugging off her coat and putting down her keys, she slowly paced towards the couch.

"Hey, I didn't think you'd still be up." She glanced at her watch and read the time as one-thirty before glancing at Luka, who was slouching on the couch, barely taking any interest in the sports highlights.

"Just absorbing a little culture," he said lightly, sitting up slowly, gesturing at the television, where the highlights of the week's football unfolded before his tired eyes. He had lost count of how many times that the 49ers quarterback had been sacked, and was past caring by now. He was not about to openly admit that some irrational, slow stream of fear had kept him waiting up for her. Today had been too much of a reminder of how powerful the past could be, how lonely, fearful, cruel and empty the world could be. Life took so many unexpected turns; it was so easy and so human to fear the uncertain mists that were the future.

"I'll get out of your way." He spoke quickly, seriously.

"No, it's okay." "I'm not ready for bed yet," Abby affirmed, gently gripping his wrist to stop him from getting up. Her eyes drank him in in the half-light, an enticing blur of blue shirt and skin, his eyes tired, sad and pensive. Every coil of colour in his irises silently pleading for understanding. She wanted to draw all of the secrets from deep within, she wanted to understand, sleep could wait. Besides, sleep had been something of a stranger to her lately. Too many flashbacks: from the curvaceous rim of a wine glass, to the blinding impact of knuckles, the final sticky scarlet on her fingertips, in the sink. Without realising, she had tightened her grip, squeezing so that she could feel the very blood in his veins, then letting go abruptly, disconnecting.

"You want some coffee?" Abby asked, regaining her composure slightly by thinking about something mundane, even if her eyes betrayed her simple words, anger and fear flashed through her consciousness, building hot tears that stopped themselves from falling.

"Help yourself. There's probably some hot chocolate somewhere too."

"Wow, did I come home to Starbucks by mistake?" Her voice trailed off into a slight chuckle that dissipated the shiver that zigzagged through her vertebrae.

Luka smiled softly, getting up quickly, following into the kitchen, somehow pleased that she had just used the word home. Silky blue light spilled from the aquarium, unreaming gently, the fish twitching chaotically in the dark.

Her fingertips laced around the edge of the mug as he poured hot water into the dark powder and stirred industriously, giving her an amused glance as her palms finally fused with heat.

"You have any cream for this?"

"Weren't you the one calling Susan high-maintenance?" Luka asked playfully, heading for the fridge.

"How did you know about that?" Abby questioned, slightly bemused.

"Gossip, I guess. Not that I really listen."

"Does she know?" "That I said that?" He returned with the cream, seeing slight concern furrow her brow, quickly deciding to try to dispel her fears.

"I don't think so. You seemed to get on well today." Air hissed garishly from the aerosol as he layered concentric circles of cream atop the hot chocolate, eliciting another mysterious grin from her lips.

"I'm all for good relations in the workplace," she replied craftily, dipping a finger lightly into the cream, then tasting it, her eyes unmoving from his.

"You want some cocoa with that too?" Luka quizzed, still teasing, with just a hint of a wicked smile.

Abby hid her amusement behind the rim of the cup, caught between laughter and contemplation. Part of her dared not consider what had caused the sudden shift in Luka's emotions. He had seemed to effortlessly drift from contemplative sadness to

energetic playfulness. But then again, the warmth and safety of being inside had seemed to pierce the cold shroud of fear that had mercilessly wrapped itself around her. She had not wanted to submit to being afraid, not wanting to let her defences down, to keep the walls up. If only it were that easy.

Not allowing her mind to wander any further, she paced away back to the couch. She sat down then closed her eyes to shut away the colour and noise from the television. Quiet prevailed as Luka finally switched off the picture, the definite shapes fading to black.

"So, why are you still up?" Abby asked, her curiosity still piqued.

"It's been a strange day." He replied, with a slight shrug.

"There's nothing like a sexual harassment seminar to pass the time," she joked, sipping the rich liquid slowly.

"How was work?"

"Painless compared to all those confessions…" "Shit…I'm sorry," she continued, suddenly tempered by the sudden, sick realisation that his confessions had been anything but painless.

"Don't be," Luka assured, even if a few of his fingers unconsciously traced a circle where a ring once sat, now nothing but an empty space, a mere silhouette.

"They were good memories." Even in such a strange and public arena, he had been pleased that at least he had articulated some of these things to Abby, who always seemed to want to know about his past. In fact, the glossy, incandescent intrigue still burnt in her eyes. Questions without words. Finally tearing his gaze away from hers, slightly lost in thought, he glanced at the window. The world outside was just a cold pool of ink serrated with the silvery mist of falling snow.

As beautiful as it was, it was hard for him not to imagine the thick, powdery snow coating gravestones, stinging in his eyes. With every good memory was laced a bad one; for every smile, a tear. An equilibrium as cruel as it was perfect. However, there was little time for the icy numbness of guilt or grief to set in, the cold feeling suddenly replaced with heat. Heat that was shocking against him as the soft warmth of her arm brushed against him, then dipped lower against his side as she casually leant over to put her cup on the table. Providing a comfort without even realising it, but also inadvertently causing a little pain. But always there nevertheless.

"What?" Abby asked, surprised, hearing him wince slightly, aware that it was not an expression of emotional anguish.

"My sword-fighting days are over," Luka said enigmatically, with a slight grin.

"Does it still hurt?"

"I'll be fine."

Despite his dismissal, Abby regarded him seriously for a moment, then speedily bunched the end of his shirt in one tight fist, the other hand tenderly inspecting before Luka had any chance to protest. Not that he was about to as her fingertips traced a velvet halo around the blue-black bruise on his side.

"Boys and their toys," she admonished gently, the warmth of his skin against her hands slightly intoxicating.

"I think I learned my lesson."

"I should hope so." "You're getting too old for games," she replied casually, giving him a teasing glance, her tone strikingly effervescent.

Luka tried his best to look hurt by the joke, even if he was anything but hurt by her soft hands still pressing lightly against his body.

"What, did I bruise your ego as well?" Even in the half-light he could not have missed the intent in her eyes, aglow with mischief, a smile creeping across her lips.

"Some things get better with age," Luka replied swiftly, feeling her now resting against his shoulder, then knowing they were both giving in to the inevitable as they dissolved into a soft, grazing kiss, somehow both impulsive and rational at the same time. A fingertip finally came to rest on his lips as she pulled away, as if she were stopping him from conceding to another inevitability: an apology. His hand drifted softly and slowly to the side of her face, cautiously brushing his thumb over the fading dark ring around her eye.

"Your eye feels better now?"

"My part in Treasure Island is no longer safe." Slight despair peppered her tone, as Abby knew it was a joke too far, immediately closing her eyes painfully tight to blink away blindingly hot tears. The acrid salt water stung hard against her raw wound, the pain certain and real, if nothing else. Powerfully reminded of how much he despised her anguish, Luka leant in and pressed his lips to hers again. Even if he could not see the coal dark fear in her eyes, even if she would barely articulate her emotions, he could taste the bitter heat of her tears.

"It's alright."

"I know."

They both spoke softly, far from convinced, their expressions telling a different story as their gazes locked for just a moment. Things were far from perfect but they had both given each other just an inch, inches that could become centimetres at the right time.

"I should get some sleep." Abby began to regain most of her composure, pressing her knuckles into the wet stream to stem the flow further.

"Me too," Luka nodded in agreement, the small talk both awkward and oddly comforting.

Wordlessly, Abby took the blanket that rested on the side, pulling it around herself and quickly returning to her position of old, resting against his shoulder. Instinct was seemingly strong again as Luka wrapped one arm casually around her, then reached to flick out the light, bathing the room in a solid, certain darkness. Only the violet glow of the fish tank remained its vibrant colour, as brilliant as potassium in a flame.

As close as they were in posture, awake and alert, sleep would be there to divide them again. She would await the nightmares even with his hand soft on her back, he could still taste her tears on his tongue, the snow would still be falling as relentless, cruel, hard diamonds.


End file.
